Chapter 32 (Patreon)

“Well, basically, I finally lost my patience, Alto. So if they come sniffing around the JMG later, don’t agree to anything. We won’t be able to supply the whole market anyway, so we’ll have to pick and choose. Better to stick with Kuat and Rendili. Kuat’s been buying our ore for a damn long time already, and the Rendili folks struck me as a pretty decent bunch.”

“Got it. Won’t be a problem,” Alto’s hologram said with a grin. “So, how’s the vacation?”

There was something in the way he asked it—an irrational hint of reproach, along with a trace of envy so faint it was almost imperceptible.

“That’s it? Just like that?” I asked, surprised by how easily the Commander-in-Chief had waved away the prospect of selling anything magical to Corellia.

“Yeah, just like that,” Alto snorted. “We’ve already sent the first shipment of metal ingots to Kuat. The shipbuilders liked the quality, so they’ve promised us favorable contract terms for more of the same. I also arranged to have the ships escorting our transports repaired and serviced there. We’ll rotate them through, and as long as we keep trading with the Kuat shipyards, the whole fleet should stay in good shape.”

“Well, good. I was worried I’d messed up some plans of yours,” I admitted. And I really had been worried—though, admittedly, the thought had only occurred to me after I’d calmed down.

“Bit late to start worrying now,” came an annoyed female voice from just beyond the edge of the hologram. I recognized Cordelia immediately. The image pulled back slightly, revealing the two cousins in full.

“Cordelia, good to see you,” I said with a smile. Her face became a study in skepticism. “Hey, what’s with the face? I really am glad to see you! How’s Karray? How’s Karina?”

“They’re both fine,” the stern head of Internal Security said, softening a little. “You could check in with your own Guild more often, you know. The girls miss a certain red-eyed sorcerer who, the entire time he’s been away, has spoken to them exactly one damn time—and every other time has only sent letters with training plans and instructions! Siith, do you even have a conscience?”

“The Quartermaster ate it,” I said, promptly throwing my pet under the speeder when he chose that exact moment to poke his head out of my pocket.

“Ooooh! That furry little bastard can eat more than just women’s underwear and food from the kitchen?!” Cordelia shouted angrily, fixing the hamster with a murderous stare. The little beast merely twitched his nose in response, looking utterly innocent. “Only you could end up with a fetishist for a pet!”

“Did you ever actually catch him red-handed?” I asked, putting on an offended expression to match the little beast’s innocent face. “If not, then it’s all slander and malicious lies! He only got caught once... uh... slipped up once... mm... And anyway, Luritta forgave him!”

Our conversation was interrupted by Alto’s laughter. When his cousin shot him a puzzled look, he just waved a hand and said, “Make sure you watch the recording later.”

I chuckled to myself too. Cordelia could get worked up at the drop of a hat, but she never took it past friendly banter.

“All right, so how’s the vacation going? At least tell us something,” the former Nimbus general said once he’d stopped laughing.

“Mixed. Mostly interesting—I’ve learned a lot of new things. I’ll tell you what happened in the capital in person. And I changed ships like I’d planned. After thinking it over, I decided to keep the Consular.”

“Weren’t you planning on getting a Diamond?” Cordelia asked in surprise, while her cousin merely raised an eyebrow.

“Well... the Consular was cheaper, and modifying it was faster. The Diamond is considerably bigger, and I’ve got far too many ideas for one of those. We could’ve easily been stuck at the shipyard for a month—I’d have wanted to cram in a hangar, a pool, a sauna... and I didn’t want to waste that much time. Same crew size too, even with droids—and that gets expensive. Maintenance is a lot more complicated as well. Besides, I’ve got an idea. I’ll tell you about it when I get back. And for that particular plan, the smaller the starship, the better. The shipyard handled all the preparations I needed, but I’ll actually put it into practice back home on Jabiim.”

At those last words, I saw both cousins’ eyes light up with satisfaction. I paused for a second, thinking... Ah. Right. Home—Jabiim. They just liked hearing me call it that.

“We’re about to land on Shili. We’ll do some hunting, see how the locals live, stuff ourselves with meat, soak our bellies in the oceans, and then move on. I’ll send you some holorecordings.”

“Th-th-thank you, Siith,” Cordelia said with a smile that somehow managed to look almost threatening. Alto’s face twisted strangely too, for some reason... Very suspicious, I thought, snickering nastily to myself.

Romri’s homeworld turned out to be a lot of fun. I met her family. Togruta were incredibly social people, so the sheer number of sisters, brothers, aunts, uncles, and assorted other relatives of our Togruta with the soul of a dwarf who were eager to meet us was simply staggering.

The Togruta turned out to be sociable, cheerful, good-natured people. Their tribes did have a kind of elder-junior hierarchy, but nothing excessive. No one was bowing and scraping, and people spoke to one another casually, though elders—whether by age or social standing—were still treated with respect.

After spending a full day with our little red Togruta’s parents and closest relatives—and stuffing ourselves with meat to the point of near-death—we headed for the coast, where there was a settlement inhabited by even more of her relatives, though supposedly not such close ones. Once we arrived and started meeting everyone, I actually began to doubt that. The villagers were wary at first, but the moment they learned that Romri had come to visit with friends... “Yes, yes! Little Romri’s back for a visit! That Romri.” So, naturally, another feast courtesy of our hospitable hosts awaited us, along with a marathon of stories from us about life out in the galaxy.

Even Arvik, responsibility incarnate, gave up trying to organize my protection with just himself and his two companions. The Mando took off his helmet, happily swapped stories about his life, listened to tales of local customs, and drank weak alcohol with everyone else. I was the only one who didn’t drink, and even then, refusing turned out to be a real challenge.

When the conversation turned to the bane of the locals—the akuls—our Mando immediately perked up. In fact, those animals were thought to be one of the reasons Togruta society had become so communal in the first place. These days the predators weren’t nearly as dangerous, but back in the old days, before the locals had decent weapons, they’d had no choice but to band together against the toothy threat. Hunters were held in high regard: they protected gatherers and other civilians and organized hunts that supplied most of the settlements’ food. Togruta were predominantly carnivorous, and while they could digest plant matter, they held meat in very high regard.

What caught the Mando’s interest was one of the traditions practiced by Togruta hunters. Alone, armed with nothing but a spear and a knife, the brave hunter would head out into the night and return with the carcass of a slain akul. Doing so earned prestige, respect, a reputation as a badass hunter, and an exclusive piece of montral jewelry made by the women of the tribe from the beast’s teeth.

After hearing that story, the Mandalorian spent a couple of minutes thinking, then asked a string of questions about the predators’ habits and where akuls could be found nearby—and started taking off his armor. Once he was down to nothing but his undersuit, Arvik borrowed Koit’s spear after removing its power cell, strapped his own knife to his belt, and, with great ceremony, asked the Gungan to keep an eye on his armor.

Koit puffed up with pride. A Mandalorian’s armor meant an enormous amount to its owner, and leaving it in the Gungan’s care was a powerful gesture of trust and respect. After listening to equally solemn assurances from the long-eared Gungan that the Mando’s gear would be perfectly safe, Arvik disappeared into the darkness, promising to return with an akul carcass in a couple of hours.

“Romri, uh...” I was a little baffled. “What was that about?”

“He’s a Mandalorian,” the Togruta said with a shrug, taking a sip of the local drink. “Arvik loves this kind of thing. Don’t worry, Boss, he’s a damn good fighter. I’m pretty sure he really will come back dragging a dead akul with him.”

Romri giggled and flicked her eyes toward the clusters of young women from the tribe, who were whispering animatedly among themselves.

“And when he drags that carcass back, he’s going to be in for quite a surprise,” our beauty said with a mysterious look.

“Boss-sa,” Koit said, dropping into a seat beside us, already a little tipsy. “Tell me, how do folks on Jabiim treat non-humans?”

“Haven’t you already picked out a place for your house?” I asked, surprised by the Gungan’s question.

“Ah, not asking for myself. Plenty of Gungans on Naboo don’t like how friendly we’ve gotten with the Naboo humans,” Koit said, flicking his ears. “Been thinking about it for a while, though. Jabiim’s got plenty of water, plenty of room. Think your big Boss, Stratus-sa, would take in some of my people?”

“Hmm...” I thought about it for a few seconds. “I can’t say I’ve ever noticed anyone treating other races or species badly. We barely have any non-humans at all, but that’s mostly because hardly anyone is lining up to move to Jabiim in the first place. Tell you what—I’ll just ask Alto about it. I doubt he’d object to a Gungan enclave, as long as they obey Jabiim’s laws, of course.”

“Thanks, Boss-sa. You’re a good human. If you were a Gungan, I’d introduce you to my little sister. Ooh, she’s a beauty now, though!”

“Thanks, Koit,” I laughed at the cheerful thoughts going through the guy’s head. “You’re a good Gungan too. I’ve been pretty lucky with sentients these past few years, come to think of it. Aside from pirate scum and assorted bandits, it’s been one pleasant acquaintance after another.”

“Except for that Naboo Chancellor,” Koit snorted. “Don’t trust him, Boss-sa. Them Naboo humans are all sneaky liars and thieves, though.”

“Don’t worry about it,” I said, clapping him on the shoulder. “Politicians are almost never honest, so I know what I’m dealing with.”

“And yet you praise him,” the Gungan objected, giving me a sidelong look.

“I do. Compared with the Republic’s previous leaders, Palpatine stands out—and in a good way. He fights corruption. Not all of it, of course; I’m sure he leaves the useful kind alone, gathering information and stockpiling dirt on the right people. But you can’t fix a situation like that by magic. Sheev takes his time, moving step by step and trying to improve things however he can. If he goes off the rails and starts purging everyone in sight, he won’t last a year.” I scratched my beard thoughtfully. “The fact that he came to see me personally, without guards and with only his aide, tells me he has phenomenal instincts and excellent intelligence, Koit—not that he suddenly found some savage from a mudball fascinating. He wanted something from me, but the way he went about getting it only speaks in his favor. Not a trace of arrogance, not a single demand. I knew that he knew that I knew he wanted something. And I gave it to him. I promised cooperation, guaranteed his people first priority once commercial training begins, and laid out what we can offer and the prospects for mutually beneficial cooperation.”

I took a sip of the brew made from a blend of unusual local herbs and gave the Gungan a searching look.

“I was dealing with a clever politician—the head of state. Yes, it’s a great honor, it’s flattering, and I happen to enjoy flattery. And all of that, Koit, is exactly why I think the Chancellor is the right man for the job. He’s intelligent, wise, dangerous, and powerful—but intelligent, wise people don’t slaughter the bantha that gives them milk unless they have a damn good reason.”

“Sounds like the description of a first-rate bastard,” Romri put in, tossing in her two credits as she listened to our conversation.

“That’s exactly why I’m saying I like Palpatine. In my opinion, a politician should be a bastard. The important thing is that he be a decent one,” I chuckled. “The Supreme Chancellor makes decisions that affect the lives of billions—decisions that make things better for some and worse for others. A soft-hearted, kindly ruler... I don’t know. I’ve never seen much respect for rulers like that. They usually ended up with nicknames like the Weak, the Foolish, the Fat, and so on. Unless they happened to live in an age when everything in their realm was already going well. Then they might not get a nickname at all. They’d just go down in history with a number attached to their name—Branor the Eighth or whatever.”

“They’re all bastards,” the Gungan said sadly, his ears drooping as he took another sip of his drink.

“Not all of us, Koit. I’m wonderful! That’s why I try to stay as far away from politics as possible. If I do end up stepping in it, of course—like what happened on Coruscant—I try to do it with style. But as far as I’m concerned, even running the JMG is already way too much!”

The celebration was gathering steam. Ras and his Rendili girlfriend had gotten well into the local drink and were now doing their best imitation of Togruta dances in the firelight alongside the merrymaking locals. Koit wasn’t about to be left out either and had borrowed someone’s spear to show off something Gungan—one of their war dances, apparently. It looked impressive, actually. The weapon hummed in the skilled spearman’s hands, tracing intricate patterns at incredible speed, and Koit moved in a way that swept every thought of him being funny or clumsy-looking clean out of my head. He was a good warrior—the kind of man whose spear was a deadly weapon, not just a stick with a sharp end.

The whole celebration was taking place in the village’s large central square. The houses themselves were more or less modern, and landspeeders and airspeeders were parked here and there, but in the middle of the settlement the locals had lit bonfires, dragged out hides, low benches, and short tables, and were making merry “the way our ancestors used to.” Somewhere nearby, drums were pounding away, wind instruments were blaring, and strings were jangling, all of it coming together into lively music that somehow reminded me of orcish festivals.

It all looked incredibly colorful and was a stark contrast both to Coruscant and to the time we’d spent at the Rendili shipyards. The Togruta women were an especially pleasant sight. Slender, athletic, graceful predators who weren’t exactly burdening themselves with much clothing provided my eyes with no shortage of aesthetic enjoyment. Even Romri, who kept casting sidelong glances at my pleased mug from time to time, eventually ran off somewhere and came back dressed in traditional attire.

“Well? How do I look?” the Togruta asked, twirling on her heels.

“Absolutely stunning, our little aurodium treasure,” I clicked my tongue appreciatively, admiring Tano in her traditional dress. “Can’t take my eyes off you.”

“Come on,” the smiling Togruta said, grabbing my hand and tugging me toward the dancers. Out of the corner of my eye, I caught sight of Suti pulling off some incredible moves of her own, dancing something fast, bright, and energetic in the middle of a circle of admiring Togruta, who clapped along to the music for her.

There was a genuinely happy smile on the Twi’lek’s face, and I felt a small pang of guilt. Suti had lived for dancing, and I, insensitive red-eyed bastard that I was, had never even stopped to think that she might miss it. I made a big mental note to ask her to dance for us every now and then. The girl worked hard enough as it was, throwing herself completely into her studies.

“Romri,” I tried to fend off the prospect of having to dance myself. “I’m not much of a dancer!”

“I’ll teach you. There’s nothing complicated about it,” the little red Togruta laughed.

And then came the task of teaching yours truly Togruta dancing. I had to alter my robe first because it kept getting in the way, after which I proceeded to demonstrate my formidable talents. Not that I was actually a bad dancer. An experienced chimerologist rarely has the luxury of being out of shape or poorly coordinated. I simply wasn’t much of an enthusiast. Still, I wanted to ruin the girl’s celebration even less than I wanted to dance, so I did my best.

We danced for quite a while, with breaks here and there. During those, the winded Togruta kept shooting surprised looks at me, standing there and breathing perfectly normally. And, overall, I actually enjoyed myself. There were no rules, no schedule, no idiots staring. Everyone was just having fun. Some people drank while half-reclining on hides and chatting, others stuffed themselves at the tables and then went off to “work off the meat” on the dance floor, and a few barely left it at all. Young couples were making the most of the darker corners, and every now and then one would disappear off toward the houses... All in all, a good party. I approved.

About an hour and a half after setting off on his hunt, our Mando came back carrying a good-sized akul carcass across his shoulders—orange in daylight, though in the firelight it looked almost blood-red. Arvik caused an absolute sensation among the locals, who erupted into cheers and praise. The carcass was taken off his shoulders and carried away somewhere into the darkness, while Arvik himself was hoisted into the air and carried around in celebration, given time to put his armor back on, and then dragged into the circle of hunters who had accomplished the same feat. There were six of them in the village: five grim, scar-covered men and one woman.

“Well, that’s it,” Romri giggled. “Now they’re going to get him drunk and grill him with questions, and after that they’ll torture him with their own stories—the same ones everyone in the village has heard a thousand times already.”

“What a terrifying monster,” the Twi’lek said, hugging herself around the shoulders. She’d already drunk and danced her fill, so she’d come back to us tired and happy.

“Come on, Arvik may not exactly be handsome, but monster is a bit harsh,” the Togruta objected.

“Nooo! I meant the animal!” Suti protested, flailing her hands while I burst out laughing.

Romri stared at her in stunned silence for a couple of seconds, then burst into peals of laughter when Koit added, “So that’s what you think of your commander, Romri!” That even made Shmi—who had spent the whole evening sitting quietly and watching the celebration with a smile—laugh out loud.

“Here we go—watch!” Romri said once she’d stopped laughing, pointing toward some commotion among the bonfires. “Whoa, four of them at once!”

And sure enough, four women split into pairs and started sparring in two small clearings the dancers had made room for. They knew what they were doing; even Koit occasionally offered approving comments. But when he remarked, “Very good, though. Especially for women,” Romri snorted.

“Our men are bigger and tougher than our women, but that doesn’t mean the women are weak. When the men went off to hunt or fight, it was the women who protected the village and the children from akuls. When the men were wounded and couldn’t go hunting, we went instead. On Shili, it used to be—and sometimes still is—deadly dangerous not to know how to defend yourself. All Togruta are predators, and all Togruta are strong.”

“Then why don’t you swing a spear around like that, though?” the Gungan snorted.

“Because I have blasters,” the girl replied, flashing her teeth.

Meanwhile, the two winners faced off against each other to see who was stronger. That fight ended fairly quickly, and the champion of the little tournament ran off in the direction where they’d carried the akul’s carcass.

“Saiya herself is going to pull the teeth from the akul Arvik killed, then make the ornament from them,” Romri explained when she caught my questioning look. “Well, most of the work will already be done, but she’ll remove the teeth herself, clean them, treat them, and set them into place. Then she’ll present the beast’s teeth to the one who killed it. And they fought because only the strongest unmarried woman among those who wanted the honor is supposed to make the ornament and give it to the hunter.”

“And the fact that Arvik doesn’t have montrals isn’t a problem?” Shmi asked.

“Eh, he can wear it around his neck,” the Togruta said with a dismissive wave. “It doesn’t really matter. We just like decorating our montrals, and that way everyone can see the trophy right away. Come on, let’s go dance some more!”

And so we danced, then rested, then danced some more, and after all that we scattered to the houses set aside for us and promptly passed out. It had been a damn good time—and tomorrow we still had the beach to look forward to! I even found myself, sinful thought though it was, feeling grateful to that green little troll. If he hadn’t been such an asshole, we probably never would’ve ended up on Shili in the first place.

The morning after the celebration, once we got to the beach, we discovered that Arvik had apparently gotten roughed up pretty badly the night before.

With his armor and undersuit off and nothing on but his underwear, the Mando was sporting a back covered in scratches and several bruises across his shoulders and neck.

“The akul was a serious opponent,” the Mandalorian said without batting an eye when he saw our puzzled looks.

“Uh-huh. Sure,” the Togruta said, nodding as she examined the bruise on his shoulder. “Sneaky bastard, too. That bite mark looks exactly like a Togruta’s.”

“Saboteur akul, though,” the Gungan said cheerfully, nodding along.

“Tough opponent,” Arvik agreed with complete seriousness, adjusting the elaborate necklace around his neck. “Want to go diving?”